Bruce Dickinson once called metal 'the working man's opera', and while a casual onlooker may well snigger at the on-stage theatrics, monsters and shape-throwing, tonight Iron Maiden show why their name is forever etched into the hearts of believers young and old.

Maiden tours are run like finely-tuned military operations. They have stuck rigidly to the same setlist for the entire 'Final Frontier' world tour, and these days knowledge of this is firmly in the public domain. The hardore fans want more Miltonian epics like 'Paschendale' and 'Rime of the Ancient Mariner', while lapsed nostalgics are apopleptic at the absence of 'Run to the Hills' and other 'classics'. The band do their best to satisfy both parties, and while their devotion to the fans and determination that everyone gets the same deal is admirable, I sometimes wish they would be a little more selfish and vary a few tracks here and there, throw in the odd curveball.

In the grand scheme of the evening, this is mere pedantry. Newie 'The Talisman' is typically evocative, from the wistful, folky intro to the trademark heroic gallop. The Manchester crowd goes especially mad for 'The Wicker Man's bounce-and-sing-along chorus. It's not accurate to see their references to film, literature and history as simply a 'Boy's Own' cut-and-paste exercise. Maiden's 'horrible histories' are concerned with the protagonist's crises and dilemmas in these situations, and the music has always managed to convey this sense of drama. Thank fuck they're not writing songs about hotel rooms and rehab. 'The Evil That Men Do' and 'Hallowed be thy Name' go stratospheric, truly stirring anthems that sum up the inimitable spirit that has spanned 35 years. It's daring, skilled, divebombing music with an everyman appeal. As the energised, punkoid 'Running Free' ends, Bruce takes a flat cap and 2 pairs of garish plastic sunglasses from the crowd, puts them on and announces that he's 'off to feed his whippet'.

This is rock in an arena, but never 'Arena Rock'. There's an almost socialist sense of shared ownership of the entire occasion, between the crew, the fans and the band; that's right, it's like a huge, global, extended family. Steve Harris is a true working class hero, someone who has executed his vision on his own terms. Maiden have never relied on, or bowed to the pressure of others to earn their zealous fanbase, and have always given those supporters their time and effort. There is a mutual respect which lends an intimacy to gigs in environments where this would seem impossible. You never stop being a Maiden fan.